


Feel You From The Inside

by ladyeternal



Series: Heat 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Mating, Desk Sex, M/M, Marathon Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Team Free Love, The hintiest whiffy-whiff of potential dub-con if you squint hard enough, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:37:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1943172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyeternal/pseuds/ladyeternal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunters’ lives are so filled with the unexpected that the word really shouldn’t be part of their vocabulary.  But every now and then, it’s the only one to use.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel You From The Inside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morganoconner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/gifts), [amorremanet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorremanet/gifts).



> Spoilers: If you’ve watched all of Season Five, none.
> 
> Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, certain events would NEVER have happened and there would be unabashed pr0n. I'm only playing with this world for my own amusement and the free entertainment of others.
> 
> Written because [](http://secondplatypus.livejournal.com/profile)[**secondplatypus**](http://secondplatypus.livejournal.com/) , [**amorremanet**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/amorremanet) and I all fed each other’s kinky souls and I ~~bribed~~ promised [**morganoconner**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner) Dean/Gabe smut as a reward for finishing her 2011 Gabriel Big Bang on time. Beta’d by [](http://secondplatypus.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://secondplatypus.livejournal.com/)**secondplatypus** ; thank you so much, BB!
> 
> Feedback is adored, so if you like the fic, please comment! And the more details the better; I love knowing what people like about my work.
> 
> Music: [Closer – Nine Inch Nails](http://lyrics.wikia.com/Nine_Inch_Nails:Closer)

~ooooOOOoooo~

There was a prickle under his skin. It had been there all day: the kind of itching, tingling muscle-deep twinge that kept him on edge from the jump. He could tell Sam felt it, too, which only made it worse; Dean wanted to protect his brother from whatever it was, and not knowing what he wanted to protect Sam from magnified it by a power of ten under his own skin.

Harder still was the amount of ground they needed to cover. The university campus was huge and haunting flares were popping up all over, giving Sam grounds for a convincing argument in favor of splitting up to do recon. Dean was uneasy about it, but one stubborn bitchface and Dean’s rationales for sticking together had crumbled.

Damn Sam’s hide anyway for knowing exactly where Dean’s weak spots were and how hard to hit to get what he wanted. Would serve him right to find his Sasquatchy ass hip deep in trouble and need big brother to save the day… again.

In deference to Dean’s concerns, the brothers were keeping to the same building, merely separate wings. The foreign language studies department, weirdly enough, was one of the more turbulent areas. Dean was exploring the classrooms and faculty offices there; Sam was in the English department in the south wing. Sam was under strict instructions that the only acceptable reason to not pick up his cell phone would be if he was dead. And yet, the uneasiness remained, a tension pulling Dean’s entire body tight and refusing to release for even a moment, keeping him on edge as he swept each room for signs of spiritual activity.

He was in the dean’s office, ironically enough, when it broke.

Need, thick and hot, pounding in his veins like storm surge breaking on rocks. Dean went granite hard with a gasp, his EMF meter dropping from his hand as he stumbled back, knees suddenly buckling from the force of it.

“Dammit.” Gabriel’s voice, usually mocking, coming from only a few feet away. Dean’s gaze swung to the archangel, lighting on sunset hair mussed from flight and eyes glowing like living amber. “Dean… it’s okay. You’re gonna be fine.”

“Gabe.” Dean’s voice felt rough, tongue thick and clumsy. “What…?”

“It’s just because of the bonds, Dean.” Gabriel was staying where he’d landed. Dean could see the way Gabriel’s eyes darted, not resting on him. The way the archangel’s hands were curled into trembling fists. “Cas is getting Sam. You’ll both be back to normal in a few days.”

“Days?” It was supposed to be an indignant roar. It wasn’t supposed to come out a reedy, filthy sound somewhere between despair and a plea.

“We just need to get you somewhere comfortable.” Gabriel was sweating; Dean could see it at the archangel’s temple. “Could you just not argue for once in your misbegotten life?”

“I’m not going anywhere until you dispense with the cryptic, Gabriel.” Dean took a step forward. “What’s happening?”

Gabriel mirrored it, a step back. “Mating season. For lack of better terms, Cas and I are going into heat, and now so are you and Sam.”

Dean blinked, his head not quite catching on. His body understood it immediately, blood singing in his veins in response, his erection throbbing and his interior muscles aching with every pulse beat. “Thought God made all the new little angels.”

“He does. It’s not meant for…” Gabriel abandoned the sentence with a shaky breath. “Everything about our human cousins affects us on this plane, Dean, including your fertility cycles. It builds until we go into heat, and if we’re bound to humans, it affects them, too.” Gabriel wasn’t breathing the same. Dean could see it now. Was only drawing enough air to create sound through his vessel’s vocal cords. “We just need to get everybody someplace nice and safe and comfortable. Ride this out in privacy and then life goes back to normal.”

Dean had no idea how he caught on; if it was the angel’s inflection or the bonds they shared; but he knew without needing the be told that by ‘privacy’, Gabriel wasn’t talking about the four of them in a floor-sized bed all rutting together until they were exhausted. Or even pairing off. He meant they were each going to ride this out alone, if they went with the archangel’s current plan.

And right now, Dean’s body and mind both voted that as blatantly unacceptable. “What about you and Cas?” Dean rasped. It hurt to talk. It hurt to breathe. His jeans were damp through and tight as a corset. His anterior muscles were flaring and contracting, exacerbating the hollow feeling he was increasingly aware of.

“Don’t worry about-”

“Will this hurt you?” This time it did thunder, anger and need driving a snarl through his lips. “To just ‘ride this out in privacy’?”

Gabriel’s breath sped up. Hunger barely constrained flared in this hot amber eyes, possessiveness and power radiating from his smaller form. Dean’s entire body flushed hot in response, his insides rolling in anticipation. “No, it won’t hurt us, Dean. It won’t be a comfortable few days for any of us, but it’s better this way.”

“Because by ‘in privacy’, you mean alone.” Dean heard the accusation in his voice. The idea of being left somewhere alone in this state felt like abandonment. Hurt on a primal emotional level more than he could fathom in that moment. “You want to just drop me and Sam off in our own separate corners, you and Cas do the same, and let us spend the next few days jacking off. Because of course, us being fragile little humans, we can’t handle being thoroughly fucked by our angels for a few days.”

“This wouldn’t be like anything we’ve done before, Dean.” Gabriel wanted to assuage the hurt. To kiss it away. To turn the words spilling out of Dean’s mouth into moans and abandon the eminently sensible plan he and Castiel had somehow managed to eke out when this hit. “Even at our most abandoned with you two, Cas and I have controlled our strength. You’ve seen how physically powerful we can be, Dean. If we don’t isolate ourselves, and you two, the damage we could do completely by accident…”

The words were like a gauntlet being thrown. Dean set his flashlight on the windowsill with a deliberate hand, then shucked his denim shirt. Gabriel’s eyes went wide. The soft thump of Dean’s cotton tee hitting the floor impacted across his senses like a cannon blast. “Dean…” Gabriel’s breath caught in an almost laugh. “Look, I understand… and I appreciate the thought here, champ…”

“Come on, archangel.” Dean toed off his boots. Socks, too.

“You’re out of your mind.” Gabriel took a step despite himself, fingers digging hard enough into his palms to draw blood. “This is wild fertility magic, Dean. There’s no telling what might happen; how long it could last if we do this. Legions of nephil were conceived when angels went into heat-”

“Any guys get knocked up last time?” Dean opened the button of his jeans, almost moaning in relief as the zipper being drawn down relieved some of the pressure against his painfully hard flesh.

“No.” Gabriel’s mouth went dry. He took another step forward. “Dean…”

“Then I ain’t spending who knows how long humping my fist when there’s something better on offer.” Dean peeled out of his jeans, skin vibrating.

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Dean.” Gabriel closed on him, rounding the desk, eyes glowing and wings threatening their confines.

“Yeah, I do.” Dean closed the distance, never letting the Trickster-angel’s gaze leave his own. “Come on, archangel. Fuck me.”

The world spun when Gabriel latched on, reeling around Dean’s senses, a haze of pheromones flooding from tawny skin laced with the copper tang of the angel’s blood smearing across his cheeks and staining his hair where Gabriel gripped him. Dean’s hands caught Gabriel’s back, trapping the archangel against him and bunching the fabric of his shirt, pulling at it until his fingers found skin.

He needed it, moaned as hands fisted in his short hair and the heavy press of Gabriel’s body reeled them back against the bay of filing cabinets with a crash, jarring them apart and then Dean was ripping at Gabriel’s clothes and panting like a bitch dog in heat and if he’d been thinking at all he’d’ve rioted over the simile. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the way Gabriel let out an inhuman sound of frustration and then clothing was dissolved by sheer will and Dean could get at all the skin he wanted, sweat-slick palms molding and sliding as Gabriel sucked dark possessive marks along the underside of his jaw.

The archangel was rubbing against him like a cat, like the best lap dancer in the world and Dean could barely breathe, clawing at Gabriel’s back with short-cropped nails and tangling their legs from where he was half-perched against the low filing cabinets, just trying to drag the archangel closer… just a little closer…

Wings burst, unfurling under his hands. Dean barely had time to gasp before those wings were folding around him, feathers sparking with grace-charged static brushing and rustling and teasing from Castiel’s brand on his arm to the taper of his hips to the delicate curve of his ankles. He bit down on Gabriel’s lip to cover the cry it drove out, lighting every nerve on fire at once, and the archangel himself seemed to ignite in his arms...

Reality spun again. Dean was barely aware of one massive wing swinging back before the other was practically scooping him off his feet, swinging him off the cabinets. His momentum barely gave him enough time to catch himself before he was sprawled across the now-cleared desk, bent at the waist, and his entire body seemed to give a painful throb at the loss of contact with the seraph, a cry he couldn’t hide erupting from his lips.

He wasn’t without long. Those feathers came back, sweeping along the length of him: a thousand thousand downy caresses charged with eldritch power. Dean tried to stand, to turn, but those wings wouldn’t let him, muscle more powerful than its delicacy implied refusing to allow him to move from the position the ArchHerald had put him in.

Sensation bursts shot across every nerve, radiating under his skin. Dean clung to the desk until his knuckles went white, rutting against the burnished surface in search of the pressure he craved, leaking slick musk across the wood and feeling it drip down his thighs in viscous rivulets. Those feathers kept at him, refusing respite, and Dean’s hips bucked back when slender, powerful hands took hold.

Sharp teeth sank into the meat of one lower cheek and Dean arched up from the desk with a howl, clawing at the surface when indomitable wings held him down, kept him in place. Made him be still as he was marked.

Dean’s knees nearly buckled as those teeth eased up, heat radiating from the bite and spiking raw need through his veins. Reminding him sharply of the pure force of Gabriel slinging him into a wall, then holding him there with one hand as if he weighed no more than the ninety-pound girl that had just exited the illusory sitcom set. Castiel’s overwhelming assault in the alley, which had turned him on almost as much as it had hurt. Sam’s giant hands whenever they wrestled, easily spanning whatever part of Dean’s body they touched.

When Dean’s rapidly dissolving brain coalesced again, he realized he might just have to own up to this kink he seemed to have for being manhandled.

That talented tongue flickered out, laving the tooth marks embedded in his skin, and Dean let out a raw, unabashed whimper. Wings shuttered around him, folding him into heat and light and raw grace crackles and musk and Gabriel was scissoring him open with something warm and slick and definitely not lube and Dean didn’t give a damn what it was because it felt like liquid grace and just made him want more and more and he was begging before he knew it, damned near sobbing from how empty he felt; so empty it hurt and only Gabriel could end it…

One long deep shove had Dean rearing up into the clutch of those wings again, Gabriel’s hands on his hips as he set a pounding, devastatingly measured pace that hit Dean’s sweet spot with every drive. Without knowing he did it, Dean’s legs pulled up until he was riding the desk, every sharp slap of hips against his jarring him in Gabriel’s grip, riding him through the puddle of saline need across the desk top and it was all Dean could do to hold onto the wood cracking in his grip and moan for it like a cheap whore.

“Mine,” Gabriel snarled, reading the thought. One hand slapped the bitten cheek between thrusts and Dean’s gasp choked in his throat. “Not a whore. Definitely not cheap. You’re mine, Dean. You’re fucking… well… _mine_.”

Speech was a foregone conclusion. Breathing was optional. Dean couldn’t seem to manage anything but moaning cries breaking in his throat, gasping his approval when Gabriel’s hips drove in just that extra bit harder, when one thumb curved down across the bite mark and set off a fresh wave of heat that made Dean’s vision flash white. The starburst at the base of his spine was reaching critical mass and he couldn’t make the words come out; couldn’t warn Gabriel it was going to happen. Could only hold on for dear life and when his entire body spasmed in the wake of another hard drive his hands lashed out, sinking into down sparking with eldritch static and fisting there…

Lightening roared. Grace leaped through Dean like a circuit had just closed, driving Dean over the edge so fast he screamed. Gabriel’s voice thundered somewhere in the distance, commanding Dean to release his wings; Dean didn’t realize he’d done it until he was on his back and his legs were over Gabriel’s shoulders and the angel was driving back in, Dean’s fingers scrabbling for purchase and finding only the short waves of that sunset hair… great wings flared, creating maelstroms of air around them while Gabriel hammered into him, driving him back towards arousal, a knife-edge of pleasure-pain flaring as sensitive flesh roused in the trapped space between their bodies.

Gabriel leaned away, changing the angle, giving himself room to stroke Dean with one hand. Dean howled again, fingers clamping at the angel’s shoulders as his head flung back and his spine bowed from the force of the climax that struck without warning. The archangel smiled, a feral, possessive curl of his lips, and then he was repositioning Dean’s legs around his waist and curling his wings around Dean’s body to brace him and stroking, long and slow with hips and hands, urging Dean back, higher this time, higher and higher until the archangel’s name was a broken begging sob in Dean’s throat, the human insensible to what it was he pleaded for.

Pulling Dean up into his arms, Gabriel reeled with him, found a wall and braced the hunter against it. Dean’s arms wrapped around his back and those short nails were clawing at the muscle at the archangel’s wingbase again, his lips finding Gabriel’s as Gabriel drove up into him with inexorable purpose, refusing to let Dean recover from one orgasm before he flung him headlong into another.

The plaster in the wall crumbled behind Dean’s back, unable to withstand the onslaught. Drywall dust tainted their kisses and Gabriel let out an Enochian oath, and then Dean was on his hands and knees on the carpet, Gabriel mounting him from behind again, cocooning Dean in those great opal wings and Dean’s entire body trembled from the onslaught of sensation, his weight dropping to his elbows and the rug beneath them burning his forearms and shins raw, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, because Gabriel was there, deep as he could go, those powerful hips starting to stutter against his own and Dean could have wept for knowing it, that the archangel was finally close, closer by the moment and Dean would get what he craved…

Phoenix cry, the scream of a predatory bird. Light and grace erupted around him and Dean came dry, a hoarse, gasping sob tearing free as he felt Gabriel flood into him, warmth seeping to his core. His entire body slumped out of Gabriel’s grip when it finally subsided, tumbling sideways into a wall of impossibly soft feathers.

Gabriel would clean up the office before taking him somewhere better suited for Round Two. Castiel would make sure Sam was safe, and he knew Sam could be depended upon to put the kybosh on any plans Castiel had of doing as Gabriel had originally proposed. Cas’ heat would be safe in his brother’s huge, capable hands.

Smaller, careful hands were touching him, a voice of concern calling his name, but Dean could only smile in response, body sated for the moment as it slid into the perfect numbness of post-coital exhaustion.

He was going to enjoy mating season.


End file.
